


She Knew Your Devils and Your Deeds

by sylvain



Series: A Case of You [4]
Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathing/Washing, Dom Vera Stone, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Memory Magic, Mild Blood, Recovered Memories, Sub Hamish Duke, Transformation, Werewolf Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28241904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvain/pseuds/sylvain
Summary: Vera can't go on lying to Hamish any longer. She restores his lost memories, understanding she may lose him, may be unleashing a deadly adversary. But when he returns to her, it's not for revenge.
Relationships: Hamish Duke/Vera Stone
Series: A Case of You [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039533
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	She Knew Your Devils and Your Deeds

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading.
> 
> It's easy to fantasize about these two pining and hurting (and one day doing naughty things), but those of you leaving comments are really driving my motivation to write it all down. A special thanks to you.

There's no sound but their footsteps along the forest floor, the wind through the trees under the moon. There should be animals scurrying about. But there are none.

Hamish looks up through the canopy of spring leaves. "Shouldn't we have waited for a full moon?" He wears a wry smile to mask his nerves. Vera sees right through it.

She tried to prepare him. He knows magic is real, how far of a leap is it really, for him to believe in werewolves? 

"It won't matter," she says pushing them further. His transformation isn't ruled by the phases of the moon.

"What's in the bag?" 

Vera's hand goes to her side, instinctively clutching the purse of enchantments, hoping she'll not need to use the dagger on him. Wondering if, this time, the chain would be enough.

Her home isn't far. She has protection spells and glamours at the ready, to distract and evade. To escape. To try.

Part of her thinks it won't matter. Once he knows the truth, he'll hate her. Or he'll kill her. Either way, she'll lose him.

When Vera stops walking, Hamish stops with her.

They stand face to face, and as the light of the moon touches his features, his mask of bravado falls away. What’s left is a lost man eagerly awaiting a promised map.

“You’ll hate me,” Vera says, not to be pitied, but so he’ll know she knows.

His response is silence.

Hamish looks down at her as she prepares the spell, his head cocked to the side like a loyal dog confused as to why his master would cast him aside. Like there is nothing he could learn that would change his opinion of her. 

But Vera knows that at his core he's scared to learn the truth. Just as she knows he doesn't understand her fears. 

There’s a puff of smoke from the ritual bowl and the blue potion is poured into a chalice. Vera stands. 

She meets his eyes and knows she's never seen a pair so blue. Want surges within her. The desire to keep him in the dark, to keep him safe, to keep him… 

Her hand caresses his cheek.

_To keep him._

But he's not hers. And he can't be. Not while he's ignorant to all he is, all she's done.

His hand comes up to hold hers in place as it rests upon his cheek. She grants him her touch, selfishly steals the warmth of his blush just a moment longer.

He takes the chalice when she presses it into his hands. He meets her gaze with innocence one last time.

"It would be your right," she insists, "to hate me."

He looks into the chalice, brow furrowed, as if just looking into the potion will give him the answers he needs. Then he brings the cup to his lips. 

He stumbles back against the thick trunk of an ancient red cedar, and his memories return to him in a rush.

Vera watches. She should go. She should run. She should cast something before he learns enough to turn on her, but she remains rooted in place.

His steely blue eyes lock on hers as they change, and his teeth grow long. 

Vera sucks in a breath as Hamish's body breaks, twists, and turns. Tundra surfaces and Vera can no longer breathe.

The werewolf reaches her in two long strides. He towers over her, leaning into her neck. He breathes her in. 

His muzzle presses against her skin. Each exhale hot and wet. He growls deep in his chest and Vera holds herself stock still. 

Her hand stays at her side, itching to reach out to him. A dangerous curiosity firing like sparks through her veins. 

_Devour me_. The thought comes unbidden. And how easy it would be for him to reach into her chest and tear out her heart. She wonders if he already knows he holds it in the palm of his hand. 

The far off snap of a twig draws his attention to the woods. With a huff, Tundra turns from her. His ears perked, hackles raised. He disappears into the forest at a bound.

Shaking, Vera gathers her supplies. 

She doesn’t remember the walk home, only that the moon seemed to hang lower than it should. 

At home she finds her armchair by the fire. And a bourbon waiting for her. One she hadn't poured for herself. Her finger circles the rim of the glass and she looks around the room as if Hamish would be there, waiting for her as well.

Vera sits. She ignites the fire and stares into the flames. Without Hamish, her home feels empty and cold. She takes a sip from her glass and tells herself the burn is supposed to feel good. 

When her hand would have gone to Hamish's head resting upon her lap, Vera bunches her skirt in her fist and closes her eyes. She brings her drink to her lips again. And when the glass is empty, she pours herself another.

*

With his memories returned, Tundra rages through the forest. All at once, everything is too clear. 

He makes it to the House where he’d lived for decades. It's empty, of course. The Champions living on campus. Living lies. But they're safe. Safer than they would have been out in the open. 

The pain of the truth echoes hollow in his chest: Vera protected his pack in a way he couldn't have. 

Another memory surfaces, one more closely guarded, better hidden than the others. _Lilith-and-Timber_. They're not here. Hamish-and-Tundra's heart twists in agony as they recall news of her loss. But there's another memory sidled with it, a promise from Vera, an oath to help get them back.

Still, Tundra has been trapped and drugged on and off for months. He needs to let loose. When an old buck dares to cross the field, he thrills at the chase. 

*

The warding on Vera's property alerts her to Hamish's arrival before he reaches her door. She meets him unarmed and swallows hard at the sight. 

There’s a wide smear of blood across his jaw, down his chest. She won't allow her gaze to travel lower. She knows she'll find more of the same. There's no doubt from the state of him, he's been hunting. She bites her tongue to keep from asking what - or who.

She faces him in the doorway, ready to take his judgement upon herself. 

His gaze is sharp. His expression is hard. He breathes heavily, but the longer he stands at her door - watching her, smelling her, listening to the beating of her heart - the more his resolve threatens to break. 

He presses his lips together to stop his chin from trembling. His eyes burn with angry, unshed tears. But he isn’t lashing out at her. He won't. Not ehen she's the reason he's alive. His fists uncurl at his sides and Vera moves aside. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says, keeping her voice steady even as her heart thunders in her chest. She knows he can hear it.

Hamish follows her to the bathroom and takes a seat on the lip of the tub. His hands hang loose between his thighs as Vera leans forward for the shower knob. Now that he’s seated, Vera notices just how much his knees are trembling. How short and uneven his breaths. 

She switches to run the bath. 

As it fills, she takes a wet cloth to his skin. Hamish looks up at her with an exhaustion that runs deep. Deeper than the physical toll transformation took on his body. 

She tips up his face and brings the damp cloth to his mouth. He holds her gaze as she wipes blood from his chin and neck. She wishes she could read his thoughts. 

“The Council wanted you executed. I didn't see another way.”

Hamish can feel the truth of her words. Her sincerity rings clear as crystal in his ear. He can taste it, crisp and sweet on his tongue. He wonders if he always could. 

Vera drags the cloth over his shoulders, angles his head to the side with a hand on his cheek. He can feel her pulse in her fingertips, can feel the way it quickens when he leans into her touch.

“You want me to apologize,” she says. But he knows she only did what she thought was best for the Order, for the Knights, and magic. He knows her, knows that if circumstances were the same, she’d make the choice to hide the truth from him all over again.

He says nothing.

She sniffs and holds herself taller. Rolls her lips and rinses the cloth at the sink to continue her work. His hands are just as filthy as his mouth. They ache with the memory of the things they've done.

When the cloth is stained a deep pink and all that's left of his hunt is the bit of wild still lingering in the edges of his gaze, Vera steps in front of him. 

Hamish loops his arms around her waist and pulls her in, pressing his face against her until he's surrounded by her scent.

His bare skin makes his connection to her more complete. Her hand on the back of his neck, her thumb kneading the muscle, grounds him better than his bare feet on the tile.

His hands slide up her back, clawing at her shoulder blades to bring her impossibly closer. And her mind goes to the blood she'd just scrubbed from under his nails.

She cups his face and tilts his head so he has to look at her. Her heart flutters when his eyes look straight into hers. Her gaze travels down to his mouth and her lips tingle.

She has to distract herself with something else. The bath is waiting. "In you get."

First one foot, then the other. He sinks into the tub, letting the scalding water soak him shoulder-deep. The aches of transformation seep out from his bones as Vera adds a spoon of herbs to the water. 

He hasn't said a word since he returned from the forest, but when Vera stands to leave, a whine escapes his throat.

His eyes open and he drops his hand from the edge of the tub to make room for her to sit. 

Vera takes her time washing his hair, picking little twigs and needles out and running her nails over his scalp. He listens obediently when she instructs him to duck under. And she doesn't mind the way he drips soapy water onto her dress.

She hums a soft tune as her wash becomes a massage. He leans his head against her to feel the low melody rumble through her chest. It's deep and comfortable and calm.

He looks up at her as her hand lingers in his hair. He slides a hot, wet hand up her side, steading himself as he sits up. He turns to press his lips against her wrist.

Vera's soft song cracks as Hamish's large hand curls around her waist. As he rises to bring his face her neck. So much like Tundra it thrills her in the same and different ways. 

"How much do you remember?" she asks, her voice broken by the way she shivers under his touch. He nuzzles her throat again, pausing at the pulse point, and she knows he's clocking her racing heart.

She grabs him by the hair, gently pulls him back to look him in the eye, and asks again.

"How much do you-"

"Everything," Hamish answers gravelly, the shine of angry tears returning to his eyes. But he swallows hard and his gaze drops to Vera's lips. He whispers- "Everything" -again and rises up to make his desire known.

Vera draws him up by the fist in his hair and her lips tingle in the pause. She brings him close enough to share his breath. And then they're closer than even that.

Hamish's lips are hot, from the bath or maybe werewolves always run warm. When Vera feels the press of his tongue asking permission to deepen the kiss, she parts her lips. The sharp taste of copper lingers on his teeth. A reminder of what he is, what he’s capable of.

She freezes against his kiss and pulls him back. “Not like this.”

Hamish recoils, but with no where to go his movements slosh bathwater up the sides of the tub. “I’m sorry, I-”

Vera stands, makes sure toiletries are displayed on the vanity, and heads for the door. She takes care not to look at him, avoiding the pain reflected in his eyes.

“Vera,” he says, and her name from his lips is like her sky falling. 

“Yes,” she whispers, because she doesn't trust herself to say more.

“I forgive you.”

Vera clenches her jaw, and for a second Hamish thinks she'll turn around. He thinks it'll be like it was, but more. That she'll accept him for the monster he is now that he knows. Because Tundra is part of him until death and he wouldn't change that if he could. And surely she, of all people, could understand.

Instead, she straightens up and gives a small shake of her head. “I didn’t ask you to."

The door closes behind her, trapping the steam and his questions in the room.

Hamish remains in the bath until the water is cold. He finds clothes waiting for him, but Vera is gone.

  
  



End file.
